The Tale of the Forgotten Angels
by Archiril
Summary: During a heavy storm, Legolas was injured. While he is in coma, some secrets of him are revealed... secrets that might well put the lives of everyone in the White City at stakes. AU/OC
1. The Beginning of Time

**Hey there again! I know this is a short one, but I had to set things right before everything could start. Legolas is not directly in this chapter, but you'll meet him soon. Hope you like it! The quote is from the masterpiece of Dante Alighieri, an Italian writer in about the 14th century, I guess. If you want to translation, please PM of review *ahum* chantage! *ahum* So please review!**

**REVISED VERSION**

_E vidi uscir de l'alto e scender gie_

_due angeli con due spade affocate,_

_tronche e private de le punte sue_.

(DANTE, _Divina Commedia_, Purgatorio VII, 25)

In the beginning, there was nothing. No light nor darkness, no joy nor grief, no sound nor silence filled the Void. And then, in one moment that lasted millennia, something indefinable changed.

And then there was the Sacred One.

As His Spirit began to extend and pierce the most secret and barest places in the Void, He filled them with Life. And out of His mind, the Ainur sprang, and out of His touches, the Angels welled. And the Void was filled.

For many, many ages, Eru kept on filling the Void, for the Void was infinite, and although Era was immeasurable, always a grain of the Void escaped his mighty Spirit. And so it was that he summoned the Angels, his sacred servants, and ordered them to encircle the Void. And he gave them white wings to be swifter than their prey. And so, the Void was walled.

Then, Eru gave the Ainur music to sing, and his Thoughts sang, and they created Something in Nothing.

And thus, Eä was created, and in it was the love of the Ainur and the hatred of Melkor and the music of Illuvatar.

But as some of the Ainur said goodbye to Eru, and prepared to descend to the young Eä and to become the Valar, some of the youngest and most curious Angels slipped inside the newborn world, out of their love for the one who had created it, determined to shield it from the evil of Melkor. With widespread wings they floated down, and thus they brought light in Arda, for behind them, the glue of the One radiated through the entrance they had opened. And their presence brought goodness and hope and joy into dark Eä.

And as the Valar started to craft the foundations of the earth, heightening mountains and delving oceans, setting and enlightening the stars, sewing flowers and trees and filling the wells with water, the Angels aided and supported them. But always Melkor destroyed what they had wrought, and darkness shrouded fair Eä. And thus, the Valar finally retreated to the Blessed Isle, and poured bliss and beauty upon the lands. And the Angels rejoiced and sang in honour of Illuvatar.

Yet some of them still mourned the loss of the creation, and they kept on turning back, and let the sleeping nature sizzle in hope and pending. And so it was that, as the Angels flew above the Lake of Wakening, Cuivienen, they saw stars sailing down, touching the water, awakening spirits that had been asleep there for a long time.

Thus the first Elves treaded Arda. And their sweet voices mingled with the singing of the Angels and the Music of Illuvatar.

But, though Cuivienen was sheltered by the grace of the Angels, darkness still lurked around, and many elves were lost as they wandered through the sleeping forests. And the first sorrow began to seep into the hearts of the fair Eldar.

And therefore the Valar decided to stand against the foulness of Melkor, and they battled in the sky, and upon the earth, and in the water. And the bases of Eä trembled. And the blood and the tears of the Valar gave life to the lifeless, and the screams of Melkor destroyed the living.

The Angels stood with them, and their bright presence troubled Melkor, and in the last days of the battle, he ambushed and imprisoned them. He locked them in his lands, and there they stayed for centuries and they were forgotten, and their names were lost, until Melkor came back from the Void. Then he placed horrible tortures upon them, breaking them, tearing them apart. And slowly, very slowly, the sacred servants were corrupted.

And as Sauron reigned, he bound them to the Ringwraiths, and from them the evil and despair that shrouded the wraiths, radiated. And they brought misery and fear upon their surroundings.

But a few did survive. And when the chance came, and Isildur weakened the Dark Lord, they fled, not knowing that one day, one day soon, they would finally play their vital role in Eä, the role that they were meant for.

And the battlefield would be the restored Kingdom of the White City, where the righteous king Elessar and his beautiful Queen Arwen reigned, in eternal friendship with Legolas the elf, and Gimli the dwarf, the stretched kingdom of Rohan and the gentle land of the Hobbits.

**Like it? Hate it? Let me know? And does somebody have an idea what will come next? Hope not, but have a try! Please review!**

**xXx Archiril**


	2. Clouds Above Minas Tirith

**Hey! Next chapter! I hope you like it! There's my first attempt to elvish in it! I hope I didn't screw it :P Enjoy!**

**REVISED VERSION.**

"Release me from this! Release me!" A loud scream arose from the White City as another contraction tortured the body of the queen. Healers and midwives strode through the chamber, worried but valiantly attempting to be efficient.

The delivery wasn't going well. The prince was lying upside-down, and blocked in that way the only gate into this world. Meanwhile, lady Arwen was exhausting herself. The labour requested the last of her strengths. Her beautiful face was sweaty and pale. The only movement she made was a painful cringing by a new contraction. She couldn't hold this much longer.

One of the nursed detached herself from the fuss and went for the door. As she closed it behind her, she found herself in a world filled with expectant, anxious silence. She took a moment to breath in the calmness, ignoring for a little while the concerned stares of the people gathered in the hall. Eowyn was there, as were some of the high lords and ladies of the City. But the most important person wasn't.

"My lady, where is the king?"

"My husband and my brother are searching for him right now. He has gone on a hunting trip with Gimli and Legolas. With the Valars aid, they should be on their way back by now. How is Arwen?" The shield-maid had only arrived this morning after a visit to her old home. To everyone's delight, Eomer had joined her on her way back. It had been a long time since old friends had met again. But the peaceful time hadn't last for long. During breakfast, the queen's water had broken. And the delivery wasn't going well.

"Not good, I fear, my lady. I beg you to send the king in after he got here. Perhaps he can help here. Otherwise we might lose the queen and her son." She knew she wasn't very polite, and in better times she would have never done that, but now she just turned and left the silent room, to plunge into chaos again.

That's why she didn't hear the agitated steps and the nervous voices getting louder and louder as their owners approaching. Mere minutes after she had returned to the queen, the door slammed open and revealed an extremely worried Aragorn, with Legolas in its wake. Behind them, Eomer and Faramir ran, and then a wheezing Gimli.

"Where is she?"

"In her sleeping room. She isn't well, Aragorn. The child…" Eowyn couldn't finish her sentence as the king brusquely brushed besides her. Legolas threw her an apologizing look and followed Aragorn. Just before he could enter, one of the high ladies who was waiting to see the Gondorian heir, stopped him.

"My lord elf! What are you doing?" Puzzled, Legolas turned.

"I am going to check both Estel and Arwen. I have the feeling they are not quit comfortable for the moment. Now may I?" He tried to pass, but the lady didn't move. She just kept on staring at him, open-mouthed.

"Might I see her? Please?" he pleaded. Exactly that moment, a nurse came out of the room again. She had just heard the last comment, and halted mid-step.

Utterly shocked, she turned to face the prince. Never before had any man even _thought_ about being in the room of his laboring wife, much less had one asked _aloud _to be in the same room of a strange woman. The elf didn't seem to realize his mistake. Even worse, he seemed to be waiting for an answer, taken slightly aback by her silence.

"My lady?" The Valar be blessed, Faramir intervened.

"Legolas, it isn't customary for men to enter the same room of a labouring woman. It's deemed… inappropriate." The elf merely snorted.

"Common, Faramir. I've seen Arwen naked before." A strangled noise arose from the corner where the nurse stood. Gimli, on the other hand, valiantly tried to stifle a laugh by coughing loudly.

"That's not the point, Legolas. It's just… It's the custom… It would be highly…" The steward wrestled with his words to explain the matter, causing Gimli only to cough louder. Legolas only seemed to grow more confused at the minute. A high scream penetrated the room.

"Ah, blast it!" Hastily, the elf writhed along the nurse and entered the room, his fair face contorted in worry. For a moment it seemed as if Faramir wanted to follow him, but one gaze at the face of the nurse was enough to keep him quiet. Then, the lady turned and ran after the elf, determined to throw him right after she got him out of the room. She was a very patient wife normally, but this was not an ordinary day, and she wouldn't want the queen's honor to be tainted.

As she followed the pair, she was greeted by an astonished silence. All of the mid-wives and nurses had halted their movements to watch the two males in silent disapproval. But neither Aragorn nor Legolas paid any heed to it, absorbed as they were in their concern for the beautiful daughter of Elrond.

Swiftly, the king knelt besides the bed, laying a gentle hand upon the sweaty her forhead. The coolness of his skin brought her back from her thoughts and as she saw her husband, she smiled weakly.

"Estel nin. Lle gar telli." (you have come)

"Aye. Gohena nin. I should not have gone."

"Hush, melleth nin. You could not have known that Eowyn and Eomer arrived this morning, not that our son chose this day to see the sun. I-" A quiver took her body and she moaned loudly. Alarmed, Aragorn turned to the healers.

"What's wrong with her? Tell me!"

"My lord, the child is lying upside-down. He is blocking his own way into the world. Nothing we did, worked to turn it."

"Him," Aragorn corrected automatically, while he was browsing through all possibilities to help his wife he could come up with. The list was terrifying short, for he knew the mid-wives to be skilled healers. No doubt they would have tried to majority of the known techniques. There was only one remedy left that the healers couldn't have thought of. He looked at his elvish friend, who was standing silent at the other side of the bed, his slender hands rubbing the swollen belly to ease the pain of the woes.

"Legolas. I need your help. You once said that you were there when my mother gave birth to me. Do you remember what Elrond did?" Swiftly, Legolas looked up.

"Yes, I do. But I do not know how he did it."

"That's alright, I know how. I just need your strength. Can you lend me power while I'm turning my son?"

The elf nodded and bent his head to the exhausted queen. Silently, he started to converse with her in their beautiful, native language. Aragorn didn't join them, but held the pale hand of his beloved wife firmly in his grasp, listening intently to the soft conversation, while Legolas was explaining what they were going to do. The eyes of the queen were closed, but from time to time she nodded to show she understood what her friend was saying. Then, the conversation ended.

"She is ready."

Aragorn said nothing, but knelt besides the bed and laid his hands softly upon the belly. Legolas too, placed one hand on his shoulder, and on upon the hand that was touching the queen's womb. And to amazement of all, who had silently followed the actions of the two intruders, the king started to song, at first softly, then louder and louder, as Legolas' fair voice mingled in it. Arwen's labored breathing started to slow down. The elvish lullaby eased her pains and let her tensed muscles relax.

Gently, it arose in the room and soothed the healers, before drifting through the door –that had been left open as Gwileth the nurse had rushed after Legolas- and filled the chamber where Eomer, Faramir, Eowyn and Gimli were still waiting, together with the other noblemen and ladies. There to, it fulfilled its calming purpose. For the first time since her friend had felt the beginning woes, Eowyn allowed herself to sit down in a chair near the fire, close to the one where Faramir sat. She sighed tiredly, and buried her face in her hands. Her husband stroke her hair to comfort her.

"Do you think she'll be alright?"

The stroking halted for a moment, then it resumed.

"She is strong. The blood of Elrond and Galadriel flows in her. She will be fine."

"Seems you've occupied yourself with elvish bloodlines, my friend. But whether it is a good thing she is a descendant of that sorceress of the Golden Wood, I do not know," Eomer commented. He still hadn't overcome his suspicion against elves. True, Legolas had become a fine friend, and he respected both Arwen and Estel, who had been fostered in Imladris, but the tales he had been raised with, prevented that he felt completely at ease amidst the Fair People. However, he had forgotten that Gimli was present.

"Do not speak of things you do not understand, horse-master. The Lady Galadriel was pure light and goodness. Do not scorn her name," the dwarf said, while grabbing the viol with the three golden hairs that he, as always, carried in a pouch on his belt. Before Eomer could reply, a high scream pierced the sweet song.

In the room, all healers fell out of their trance-like state as Legolas and Aragorn stopped their singing. The queen cramped in pain as a new shriek fled from her mouth. Tears dripped down from beneath her tightly shut eyes, and her hands clasped convulsively in the clammy blankets. The midwifes came forth, pulling the elvish warrior and the king away from there beloved queen and checking her condition. And then, one of the nursed screamed.

"The baby has turned! He has turned!" Hastily, fresh water was being boiled a new towels were prepared. And some minutes later, soft whimpers were heard in the room as the newborn prince breathed in his first gasps of air. And that night, a grand feast was organised, and all people of Minas Tirith were dancing and singing and drinking, seemingly forgotten how close mother and child had been to death.

* * *

><p>It was finally quiet again in the chamber. Most of the drunken singers had gone home. The Valar be blessed that Eldarion didn't wake from the sound of the feasting civilians. He needed his rest. As did Arwen.<p>

Behind him, a door opened. Legolas could hear the soft steps of his friend halting by the bed of his wife, before continuing their journey to the closed window where the elf sat.

"Legolas," he greeted. The prince nodded friendly. And for a while, they sat in the starlight, looking down at the beautiful city.

However, Legolas could sense that his friend was troubled, and after some time, he broke the silence.

"Nad lle trasta, mellon nin." Something troubles you, my friend. The king laughed mirthlessly.

"Nad? Um manadh ammen tio echor." Something? Bad fortune seems to encircle us. He slipped in the tongue of men. "Legolas, the harvest failed completely. The few provisions we have, seemed to be rotten. We suffer many raids of orcs, and though they are small in number, they do succeed in wounding and killing good men who should be at home with their families instead of patrolling in the wilderness. The winter has come extremely early and promises to be harder than anything we've faced the last decades. The stock of firewood is already running low, and we're not even past January! And besides that, my wife would have died giving birth to my son, if you hadn't saved her! My power was failing, as you suddenly took the healing over and turned Eldarion!" His voice had grown louder and louder, but now he became silent, stroking through his hair with a trembling hand, watching the dark sky.

"How did you do that anyway?" Legolas waited some moments before answering.

"You know that my mother died giving birth to me," Legolas silently answered. "I believed it was my fault. My father's healer forced me to study his books on the topic, to convince me there was nothing I could have done to prevent it. In this way, I also found the technique that I used with Arwen. I didn't remember it before, since it has been a long time, but feeling your healing powers, I recalled something I had read in those days." The silence stretched for a moment.

"Hannon lle." Thank you

"Lle ier creoso." You are welcome. Further away, thunder rumbled. The king sighed.

"Alagos teli." A storm is coming.

* * *

><p>The rain whipped the windows relentlessly. Thunder and lightning seemed to have melted in one, never-ceasing chaos. The wind howled furiously at the friends who were locked inside, drowning the wailing of Eldarion. The young prince had barely slept in the violence of the storm. Now he was silent, looking with wide, frightened eyes to the ceiling, his tiny hands clutched around his ears. The flames in the fireplace were trembling violently.<p>

The friends, who were sitting close to the fire, were silent. No one even tried to outvote the roaring of the tremendous storm that raged outside. They just leaned close to each other, shaking and trembling, since the rationing of the wood had become even more limited. Even Legolas seemed to suffer from the cold. His lips had turned slightly blue as he wrapped his arms around Arwen, who was still pale and weak.

Finally, Eomer entered the hall with a worried expression. Aragorn frowned. Surely the Valar would not give them more trouble. They had already taken enough. His prayer was not answered.

"Wher…Where's… Eo…wyn? She's… no…not in he…r room." he stammered. The cold had paralyzed his mouth. Alarmed, Faramir looked up.

"She told me she wou…would go and ch…check the hors…es, some moments be…before the storm coll…collapsed. I thought she…d…had gone to…to her room."

"She…she's not th…there." They all looked at each other, hoping that one of them would stand up and say that he knew where the shield-maid of Rohan was. But after a few moments, the truth began to dawn that nobody had seen her the past hours.

"I…I'd better search her," Legolas said, and rose. "I'll ch…check the stables. It will warm me up a bit."

"To get to…to the sta…stables, you'll have to g…go out…side. You can't do th…that now, not in this weather," Aragorn rejected, but Legolas had already left the room. Cursing, the king hurried behind him, as did the others, except for Arwen, who was holding Eldarion. At the gate, the elf halted to throw on his winter cape.

"Hold a candle in the door, so I can see in which direction I'll have to go. I fear the rain will be blinding my eyes."

"Legolas, tiro ette! I alagos braeg! Ù-caro sen!" Legolas, look outside. The storm is fierce. Don't do this!

"A man o Eowyn?" And what about Eowyn?

Aragorn didn't have an answer on that. Quickly, the elf slipped passed him and entered the storm.

It was terrifying.

With all his strength, he had to fight the wind to gain a single step, while the rain was whipping his face until he bled. The elf could barely hold his eyes open. Branches and other rubbish flew past him. Closely. The elf gritted his teeth and redoubled his efforts to reach the stables. Lightning struck in with a vile flash as he opened the stall doors. It was dark inside.

"Eowyn?" Legolas asked. There was some rustling in the hay, and the maiden emerged from beneath it, her hair tangled with yellow straws. Big-eyed, she looked at the elf.

"Legolas? Is it really you? Has the storm passed?" A thunder rumbled loudly and drowned her last word.

"I fear not, sweet Eowyn," Legolas answered as the roaring had died away. "I've come to bring you back to the hall. There's a fire there. It will be more comfortable than here, I guess."

"It doesn't matter. Beneath the straw, it's quit warm. I was almost sleeping. Why don't we await the ending of the storm here?"

Legolas hesitated, but he shook his head. "It's attractive, but the others will be worrying, especially Faramir. And I don't think it's a good idea to join you in the straw. Men have strange customs, you know. I also wasn't really allowed to enter the room where Arwen was giving birth to Eldarion." His voice had a childish, wronged tune. Eowyn wisely decided not to answer.

"Well, let's go then."

She opened the door.

The wind slammed her back.

"Eowyn! Are you alright?" Legolas hastened to the place where Eowyn had fallen. The maiden dizzily got up, attempting to shake off the supporting hand of the elf.

"I'm fine. I'm fine. Just, let me get up." Shakily, she stared at the storm that had ripped the calmness in the stable. The horses were whinnying restlessly.

"We'd better go and close the door," Eowyn muttered, taking a step towards the door. Quickly, Legolas shove next to here, forming a living shield for the lady. Together, they entered the hell.

The way back was even worse then before. The wind seemed to have grown in power, and there was a malicious voice in the air. Legolas almost imagined that he heard it screaming his name, but he ignored it, focusing only upon the ground, the wind and Eowyn, trying to shield her from the ravage that was flying through the air. Never before in his long life, he had seen such a storm. It almost wasn't natural anymore.

Next to him, Eowyn was trembling violently. Legolas looked longing towards the flickering candle. It seemed so far! They were already soaked to the bone. They marched on.

Finally, the candle came closer. Relieved, Legolas handled Eowyn over to Faramir and wanted to step inside. Then, something huge smashed against his head. Vaguely, he felt himself being lift up by the wind and thrown a few yards further away, against a wall. The elf screamed as a sharp pain flared from his back and head. And then, he knew nothing, only a dark abyss that howled his name, and devoured him.

**Better? Please tell me what you think about it. Special thanks for Mornen, who made me attent of some mistakes and gave some suggestions, that led to this revised version :)**

**xXx Archiril**


	3. The Storm has Passed

**Here's the next chapter. The 4th will not come that quickly, since I've a lot of schoolwork now, but I'll try to upload it at least before the end of next week! Hope you like it! And I can see that you're reading it, so please review! ;)**

**I would also like to thank BagginsPotterPevensie for her reviews :P**

**REVISED VERSION**

He was so beautiful.

In awe, Arwen looked down at her sleeping son, cradled warmly in her arms. He was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen in her not inconsiderably long life.

"Lle valima, ion nin," she whispered softly, and pressed a soft kiss upon his forehead. "Pân elleth lle ind melant. Nin bain ion." You're beautiful, my son. All maidens will love you. My beautiful son.

The door slammed open and broke the blessed silence. Estel came in, pinched and soaked. In his arms he held a lifeless form. His hair fell down as a golden waterfall, dripping. Arwen rose immediately.

"Legolas! Wha…?" But Aragorn didn't take the time to answer. He quickly brushed the rummage off the table and laid the elf on it, making sure his head rested comfortably upon his folded cloak.

"Arwen, would you please fetch me some athelas? And some hot water and towels. Faramir, please take care of Eowyn. She should be warmed right now, otherwise she'll catch a severe cold. Eomer, please be so kind to get some wood. I need to get this hall warmer. Gimli…" his voice trailed off as he saw the dwarf standing next to Legolas, the hand of the elf clutched in his. The dwarf looked at him with fierce eyes.

"Just… Just be with him." Gimli nodded, as if he had expected no less. As soon as everybody had left the hall –with exception of the Dwarf-, Aragorn finally took the time to examine Legolas.

The wood had hit him hard. Half of his head was covered in blood, so that Aragorn couldn't see the wound, but judging from the amount of blood, it wouldn't be a minor cut. Carefully, he opened Legolas' closed eyes and held a candle before them. The elf didn't respond at all, except for the fact that his pupils had widened. A severe concussion.

Estel made a mental note of this, and continued his swift examination. Two broken ribs, one had penetrated his lung, making breathing hard for the elf. If he would have been awake, he would constantly being in danger of drowning in his own blood, but fortunately, the elf was in such a deep state of unconsciousness, that his breathing had flattened out completely.

His wrist was broken, just as his left ankle. His shoulder was dislocated. A piece of wood had made a deep wound in his shoulder. The most serious injury however, was the one on his chest. A part of that damned wood had gone through his flesh, some inches away from the heart. A bit more to the right, and the elf would have died immediately. Still, it was a very dangerous wound, one that had to be tended immediately, in order to prevent more loss of blood.

So, three life threatening wounds. He didn't think Legolas had ever done better. One time, after an encounter with a bunch of orcs and some trolls, they had managed to reach Rivendell where the elf had succumbed to two serious injuries, and some other minor wounds. But three? He couldn't recall that.

By that time, Arwen had come back with the boiling water, and the towels, and the athelas, and some other instruments he might need. She hissed as she saw the paleness of Legolas' face, and the blood that had formed a pool beneath the table. Then she looked at him with determined eyes.

"What can I do?"

"Try to stop the bleeding of the head wound. Eomer, I need you to hold him tight. I'll have to relocate his shoulder, and to pull this wood out of him, in that order, and I'm afraid that he won't like that."

Immediately, the Rohirrim came over. He wrapped his strong arms around Legolas, making his head rest gently upon his shoulder, and nodded. Gently, Aragorn gripped Legolas' shoulder, and pushed. The bone clicked in his place again. The elf didn't move, that was quit alarming. But he had no choice but to tend the other wounds first, and then to try to wake him. It wouldn't be very pleasant for his friend to be awake during the treatment.

He looked at Eomer, who nodded again, and pulled the wood out of the elf's chest in one fluid movement. Again, there was no reaction. The blood was only pouring faster out of the wound. Quickly, Aragorn pushed a towel against it. In a few moments, it had turned red. Estel frowned. He needed to sew it.

"Arwen, please disinfect a needle for me." A few moments later, the hot iron was pushed into his hands. Fast and effectively, the king sewed the wound, while Arwen was washing away the blood, so that Aragorn could see what he was doing. Then he put some crushed athelas leaves upon it, and bound a bandage drenched in a extraction of the healing flower around Legolas' chest. There was still blood leaking from the injury, but it had to do for now.

The pierced lung now. That was more difficult. Normally, he would have just bind it in order to prevent the rib from penetrating any further, but in this case, it was to dangerous. The tear in the lung was already too big. They had to heal it one way or another, but he couldn't reach it, unless he operated the elf. And he had lost too much blood to risk that. So they had to do it in another way.

"Arwen. Did lord Elrond ever teach you how to heal with your feär?"

"Yes," she answered calmly. "Give me a moment. The bleeding of the head wound has almost stopped." Carefully, she took the towel away and glanced beneath it. She was right. The bleeding had stopped. Again, she drenched a bandage in the athelas-water, and bound it around his head, gently brushing some hairs out of Legolas' pale face.

Then, she positioned herself next to his chest. Carefully, she laid a soft hand upon the place where the rib had penetrated the lung. While Estel was looking, she concentrated on the far too shallow breathing of the fair being, and adapted her own respiration to his.

Slowly, her hand started to glow, creating a portal before her spirit-eyes. She entered Legolas' body. As a river of light, she filled his veins, easing the pains that tortured her friend, putting him into a healing sleep. Near the broken rib, she halted. She saw the tear in the lung. It was far greater than they had thought. Hastily, she forced her powers towards the wound, willing it to close.

Strength poured away from her. She got dizzy and weakened, though the wound closed only slowly. She kept on sending power towards it, until she almost lost consciousness. With a frustrated sigh, she withdrew.

As she fell into her body, the weakness conquered her. Were it not for Estel who caught her, she would have fallen. Her head didn't even want to stay upright. She closed her eyes for a moment.

"Arwen?" Aragorns worried question brought her back for a moment.

"Need a… bit of rest, melleth nin. The wound… it has closed, although not… completely. I'm sorry."

"Don't worry, Arwen. He'll be fine. Now sleep. You've done great." His soft voice seemed a soothing as a lullaby to her. She felt herself being lifted and closed her eyes. And slept.

A few hours later, she woke again. The storm had passed over. The palace breathed in a blessed silence, now that the roaring and rumbling had faded. Arwen rested some minutes longer, then she opened her eyes. She was packed in dozens of blankets, near the fire. Next to her lay Aragorn, clearly exhausted. His hands were still covered with blood, that he had sloshed upon his face.

Abruptly, the elf rose. Legolas! She scanned the hall. Not far from her, also wrapped in blankets, the lifeless form of Legolas was laid near the fire.

He hadn't improved at all.

His breathing was still very shallow, and he had dark circles beneath his eyes, that contrasted sharply with the sickly greyish of his skin. She stepped towards him and took his hand in hers. It was far too cold for an elf.

"Legolas?" she whispered softly. No reaction. She frowned. He should have waken by now. They had treated him hours ago!

Gently, she squeezed his hand. Still, he didn't seem to have felt it. Worried, Arwen brushed some hair out of his face and patted his cheeck.

"Legolas? My friend, you need to wake up. Come on, Legolas. Come back. What would your father say if he saw you like this? Surely, a storm cannot kill you! Wake up. Legolas, wake up!" Her voice grew louder and louder.

The others woke and joined her, concern written upon their faces. They too tried to wake Legolas. Eowyn wept, saying him that she was sorry that she had caused this. Aragorn begged him to come back, trying the old trick to say that Mirkwood was in danger, and that he needed to wake up. Gimli tried insulting and threatening the elf with eternal scoffing for being beaten by a piece of wood. Eomer even wanted to let him swallow some extremely strong ale, but Faramir was just in time to prevent that.

But Legolas didn't respond. And by the end of the evening, they brought him to his room, tucking him in warmly. Eowyn sat up by him all night, waiting him to wake.

Though when she herself opened her eyes as the sun penetrated the room, Legolas was still lying motionless and pale in the bed. And the day after too. And the day after too. And meanwhile, his friends were worrying, and keeping him company.

But the elf didn't wake.

**Like it? Hate it? Let me know! Please review! ;)**


	4. A Tale of Angels

**Next one! Hope you'll like it Please review**

**TheButterflyCurse996: here you have your chapter ;)**

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><p>On the evening of the fifth night after the storm, two riders rode up the way to the palace. They were wearing thick, dark cloaks, and their faces were hid beneath their capes, though judging from the way they were sitting upon the back of their horses, one with a trained eye could tell that the first rider was a men, and the second a woman, and that both were warriors.<p>

But few were out that night, for it was still freezing cold, and so the riders could approach unhindered the gateway to the palace. There, they handled their horses over to one of the unfortunate stable boys, and entered the building, requesting an audience with the king.

And thus, they were brought to the king.

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><p>"Strangers? What do they want?"<p>

"I do not know, sir. They asked to speak with you. I had to add that they had information concerning the elf sir." Estels hanging head tugged up.

"Legolas? Do they know how we can wake him?"

"I do not know sir." The king nodded thoughtfully.

"Send for Lady Arwen, Lord Faramir, Lady Eowyn and Lord Gimli. If these strangers know anything that can help us rousing Legolas, they should be present. After that, you can let the guests in."

"Yes, my lord." The guard hastened away.

Some minutes later, all were gathered in the cold hall, the noble ones with expectant faces, the guests with blank expressions. They had taken off their capes, so that one finally could see their faces.

The man was elderly, with white hairs and a white beard. His eyes gleamed in wisdom, and his radiation was not unlike Gandalfs, full of power and magic. He wore a long, grey robe that was decorated with strange symbols, resembling rare herbs and savage animals.

The woman, on the other hand, was elf-kind, eternal young, though she didn't look like Legolas or Arwen, or any other elf that dwelled in Middle-Earth. One could say she was an Avari, or a Moriquendi, for she had a wild, fierce look in her eyes, and her hair was entangled with flowers and feathers and colourful beads, and there was a design of ink upon her face. She looked alert, but didn't say anything and stayed partly behind the wizard.

"Be welcomed in my house," Elessar began, with all dignity that runs fluently in the blood of the Rangers. "I am King Elessar, Lord of Gondor. This is my wife, Queen Arwen, Lord Faramir and Lady Eowyn, my Steward and his wife, Lord Eomer from Rohan, and Lord Gimli, whom I have the privilege to call my friend. You wanted to see me?"

The wizard and the elf-maiden exchanged a glance, then the men stepped forward and bowed.

"Lord Elessar of Gondor, you have my deepest acknowledgement for your hospitality. Allow me to introduce Iris, a wood-spirit, or perhaps you know her kin better under the name of Avari. For myself, I am called Yvren by the few who know me. We come from a place far into the West, of an island unknown to you. It is our home, and that of Legolas." The last sentence took everyone's attention. Faramir was the first to react.

"Excuse me my lord. I must have heard you incorrectly, but I was under the assumption that you mentioned Legolas."

"I did," Yvren calmly countered. "I have raised him as my son. Did he never tell you that?" A stunned silence answered him.

"Apparently not." It was the first time Iris spoke. She had a fair, musical voice, not unlike that of Legolas. She sounded amused. Somehow, that irritated Eowyn.

"Then perhaps, noble Lady, you would care to explain why a wizard would raise the son of Thranduil?" She managed to give the third and fourth word a tone of deep sarcasm, accompanied with a glance towards the muddy and worn tunic of the wood-spirit. Faramir sent her a warning glare. She caught it, and blushed lightly.

"We will, my Lords and Ladies, although we have to ask to see Legolas first. As you will surely understand, we are quit worried about him," Yvren said, as though he hadn't noticed the silent reproach. Iris too had ignored the hostile comment completely.

"How do you know he was wounded?" Yvren smiled gently.

"I am a wizard after all, my dear child. Besides, he's my son. I felt that there was something wrong from the moment he was hit by that wood." Faramir couldn't help the suspicious voice that asked how they had found out about that detail. Even the guards didn't know about the wood, only that the lord of Ithilien was injured during the storm.

"How can an elf be the son of a wizard?" Eowyn asked again, more polite this time. However, again she received no answer.

"Everything will be made clear, my lady, after we've seen him. I have to know that he's alright.' Aragorn didn't like the idea to show his friend so vulnerable to complete strangers – after all, who said they were telling the truth? On the other hand, how could they make up such an incredible story? – but he couldn't bring anything in against it, so after a short hesitation, he gestured to follow him/

By the door, he halted.

"I have to warn you, Lord Yvren, Lady Iris. He was seriously wounded. It may be a shock to see him like this." It was a last attempt to stop them from penetrating Legolas' room, but it was in vain. The wizard and the Avari just nodded, making clear they wanted to enter. Faint-heartedly, the king opened the door.

It had been a good idea to warn them. Iris shuddered and brought her hand to her mouth, gasping. Yvren made no sound, but closed his eyes for a moment, before opening them again to examine the lifeless form beneath the blankets.

Legolas' condition hadn't improved at all.

His face, once sparkling with the merry, ethereal glue that was typical for young elves, was still as pale as the moon in the winter night. His eternal laugh had died upon his blue lips. His eyelids were closely shut.

Silently, Iris moved forwards and took his limp hand in hers, kissing him gently. Legolas gave no sign that he had noted the tender gesture. He remained still.

"Legolas." Her soft voice was akin to a moan. "Please wake." Without knowing it, she repeated what Arwen had said after that cursed night.

But he answered not.

Noiselessly, Aragorn entered the room. He gave them some minutes alone with their grief, but after a while, he couldn't still his curiosity anymore.

"My Lord, my Lady. My apologies for disturbing you, but I have to ask you for your story. You said Legolas was your son?" Yvren took some time to regain his composure before answering.

"He is my son, indeed, though he wasn't born out of a union between me and a woman. Rather, one could say that magic and love and light created him, and that I only played a minor role. Please, sit, if it isn't haughty of me to invite you to do so in your own palace. It will be a long and difficult story to tell, and it will be more pleasant if you're sitting comfortably." None of them took offence. Arwen requested that some tea would be made, and Gimli, Faramir and Eomer fixed some other chairs, while Eowyn tucked Legolas in. After they were seated, Yvren began his story. And it would last the night indeed.

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><p>"Lord Yvren! Here's the statue you asked for. Where will I put it?" Iris had opened the door of his study room without any thought about civility or knocking. Behind her, two grunting Nymphs had set the wooden figure down. Yvren barely looked up from his papers.<p>

"You can place him in the Magic Hall, if you would like."

"My lord," she nodded and went to her two helpers to point them the place where the statue had to be brought to. She didn't accompany them though. Instead, she lingered in the door opening, looking at Yvren. After a while, he gave up his attempt to ignore her.

"What is it, Iris?" But his frustrated tone didn't discourage her.

"I was just wondering," she answered lightly. "Why did you let me make a wooden statue of an elf, that had to be even more skilfully crafted than I normally do, life-sized and with real emerald for the eyes, only to place it in that dark room of yours where no one will ever see it? Just wondering." Yvren looked at her for a moment, sighed and rubbed his temples with his thumbs.

"Suppose I tell you. Would you be able to protect the secret with your life?"

"Oh, I love secrets! Tell me!" Iris enthusiastically exclaimed, grabbing a chair and leaning forward. Until she saw the glance in Yvren's eyes. "Er, I mean, of course I can hold it for me. What is it?" Yvren sighed again, but he realised that he needed her. Still, he contemplated a moment whether he should tell her everything, or to ask her only to do what was required, without any explanation. She would do it, he knew. She trusted him completely. But would it be fair?

"What do you know about the Angels, Iris?" She looked surprised, but answered nonetheless.

"Not much, actually. They are the winged servants of Eru and were created out of His touch. They live with the One, beyond the frontiers of Arda."

"True. But did you know there were some Angels, who managed to slip into this world? They were captured by Morgoth, and tortured. Some of them became his slaves." Iris lowered her gaze.

"That's… sad. They must have been pure once. Darkness ruined so much beauty."

"Then you'll be glad to hear that some managed to escape." Yvren watched her reaction sharply. Her face lit up, and her eyes glistered curiously. She hated the evil that had invaded her woods. Everyone who did something to hinder the darkness, would find an eternal friend and ally in her.

"They did? That's wonderful! How do you know?"

"They came to me."

"Excuse me?"

"They came to me. With a request. And to fulfil that wish, I need your help. Are you in?" Still vaguely confused, Iris nodded.

"Then swear you will never reveal this to anyone." She hesitated, but her curiosity got the better of her.

"I swear it. What would you like me to do?" Yvren held her gaze for a moment, trying to find any reason to suspect her. When he couldn't see anything, he decided to tell everything.

"They want me to hide their youngest scion. He has to be given a mortal form, preferably elvish, for he has to live with us for many years. That's why I asked you to craft that statue. It will be his body for the coming years. In the meantime, the Angels will try to heal the wounds that Morgoth has created, and to retain Sauron, Melkor's servant. There are rumours that he wants to take his masters place." Iris looked sceptical.

"You want to hide an Angel in a wooden statue? Is that right?" Yvren casted her an annoyed glance.

"I am a wizard, Iris. It will work. But I need your help. You have to give him some life essence of the spirit of the woods. That will create the bound with nature that elves are famous for and give me a start in giving the wood life. Furthermore, I would be grateful if you could fetch me some stardust. It would rend him some ethereal beauty. Before the next full moon, if you would please." Iris was still puzzled, but she by the night in which Tilion shone in his majestic fullness, she had provided everything that was needed for the ritual in the Magic Hall.

Yvren was already present, having raised the statue of the tall, fair elf. He was beautiful, even in her eyes. She had given him the fairest parts of all the Nymphs she knew in the forest; the green eyes of Toryn, the smiling mouth of Viraliel, the soft hands of Aynil, the body of Shaluïsë. He was gorgeous. But she had never expected him to come to live! And as she was watching him, she felt an expectant tickle settling in her stomach.

"Ah Iris, you are here. Please put everything here, would you? And then go outside and close the door please."

"Don't you want me to be here?" Iris asked, slightly disappointed.

"I will call you when I'm ready."

"Fine," she said displeased. Angry, she put the bag with the dust and the essence and some other ingredients upon the table –quit hard. In the corner, she saw a pale, ethereal light, and she knew there were Angels present. But she couldn't see them, and after a gesture of Yvren, she went out and slammed the door shut. In the patio she waited.

From time to time waves of power flowed from the closed door, and the water-nymphs in the small fountain whispered excitedly. Iris didn't sleep that night.

By the morning, while she was sitting with a blank mind nearby the water, Yvren came out of the Hall.

"Iris?" He called her name softly, testing, afraid of waking her. She shook her head.

"Yes?"

"It worked." After a few seconds, she got the meaning and sprang up, rushed towards the room and halted. Before her, stretched upon the table, an angelic elf lied. He was naked to his middle, and he was absolutely adorable. But in his sleep, he didn't notice her admiring gaze.

Slowly, she approached him, and softly touched his cheek. She hadn't meant to wake him, yet he opened his eyes. With a hesitant, inquisitive glance, he smiled gentle to her. Yvren had come closer and stood now behind her.

"His name is Legolas."

**Please let me know what you think about it! Review! xXx Archiril**


	5. Waking

**Hey! Another chapter! There was some confusion about Legolas being the son of Thranduil of of Yvren. Well, Legolas was originally raised by Yvren, but since the darkness is growing stronger, he is brought to Mirkwood to live there. An elf living on a mountain with a wizard and wood-spirits was far too obvious. Thranduil is one of the few who know the true origin of Legolas.**

**So, hope this cleared it up. I decided to give Legolas quit a childish character, for he doesn't know anything about his heritage, so he was very young at the time that is described here. Hope I didn't offend anyone :P**

**One more thing, as usual... Please review! :D It's very encouraging for me to write on! I can't improve without some critism!**

**Anyway, thanks TheButterflyCurse996 for your reactions!**

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><p>The sky was become brighter in the East as Yvren finished his tale. All of them, except for Iris and the wizard, were staring blankly at the little elf beneath the blankets.<p>

No, not an elf.

An Angel.

A servant of Eru. One who has witnessed the creation of this Earth. It was much to comprehend.

"So… you mean… he isn't real?" Eowyn whispered at last.

"Not real? Why do you say that?" Iris aggressively interrupted. Eowyn was taken aback by the angry words.

"Nothing… I mean… it's just…he's made out of _wood,"_ she stammered defensively.

"What about it? Doesn't he laugh just like you? Doesn't he weep just like you? Can you not hear his heart beating, or feel the warmth and softness of his hands? Why would he be any less than you?"

It remained silent after the outburst. Yvren sighed.

"You should forgive her, my Lords and Ladies. She…"

"They shouldn't forgive me at all," the Avari snorted, her arms crossed before her chest.

"That's quit enough, Iris! Go and cool down outside!" She shot him a furious look, stood up and walked to the door.

"And don't come back before you can recite the 10 Songs Of Magic!" The door slammed shut.

"Again, I ask you pardon for her behaviour, my Lords and Ladies. Legolas has had a difficult time cooping with his origins, after we told him who he really was. That's why Iris is so extremely protective when it comes to his birth."

"We understand," Aragorn quickly reassured him, but Yvren was lost in his thoughts.

_Silently, Yvren entered the room and closed the door behind him. The curtains were closed, and the chamber was dark, which gave, in combination with the wood that was omnipresent and the sloping roof, an enclosed feeling. Yvren waited a moment, until his eyes were used to the obscurity. A soft sobbing arose from the bed in the corner._

_"Legolas." The sobbing stopped abruptly. The pillow moved a little._

_"Go away," a muffled voice demanded. But Yvren didn't yield. He approached the voice and sat down, his hand softly resting upon the contour of a shoulder._

_"Legolas," he softly spoke. "Please talk to me."_

_For a moment, nothing happened, then Legolas' golden head appeared from beneath the blankets. His tearful eyes were full of anger._

_"What do you want to say? More lies?"_

_"Legolas…"_

_"You lied to me! You lied to me all the time! I trusted you, I thought you really cared about me, but you only held me here because those Angels asked you!" he yelled. "You and Iris! You lied to me! I hate you!" Again, he hid his face beneath the pillow. His shoulders began to concuss. Tenderly Yvren tried to place his hand upon them, but Legolas shook him off._

_"Who did ever say to you that I only held you here because of the Angels?" he softly asked._

_"You did. You gave me this body and you…"_

_"Hold on a moment, ion nin. Yes, I gave you this body because we had to hide you. But from the moment you opened your eyes, my son, I… you are my son, Legolas. I would never let someone hurt you, and I'm truly sorry that the truth about your origin did. But it was time you learnt about it." He stroke Legolas' hair. "Sauron has won power. I do not know where your kin is, but I fear we must be prepared for the worst. That's why you can't leave the mountain, Legolas, and that's why I had to explain this to you."_

_Slowly, the sobbing died away. None of the could remember how long they sat there in a comfortable silence, but eventually, Legolas reappeared from beneath the blankets._

_"Ada… if I was not an angel, but just an elf who was lost and somehow got here, would you still hold me here then?" Yvren smiled gently._

_"Of course, penneth. You are my son. What father would ever send such a wonderful child away?"_

_Legolas hesitantly smiled and embraced Yvren, starting to say something. Then, Iris' voice cut through it._

_"Legolas! Where are you? Didn't we agree to go swimming today?" Legolas' face clouded. Yvren understood it._

_"Speak with her about your origin, if you will feel better after that. But don't forget that she theoretically doesn't have to be with you. The Angels never asked her anything. She does it though, because she loves you." Legolas pondered about that for an instant, then nodded._

_"Then why are you still here? Go on! Iris is waiting. And you know she doesn't like that." Yvren smiled as Legolas sprang up and descended the small staircase. That evening, they returned wet and laughing. Together, they sat outside for dinner –for it was a hot summer's day- pestering the cat and staying up till long after midnight. And all was normal again._

Eowyn coughed.

"Could I ask you something delicate, Lord Yvren?" Yvren smiled.

"Of course, my Lady. What is it?"

"They… I mean… Iris and Legolas…are they… are they lovers?"

"Eowyn!" Faramir exclaimed shocked. Yvren however, just chuckled.

"One could say that, indeed."

"Oh." There was a stunned silence. With a hint of sadness, Aragorn looked at his sleeping friend. He had known him all his life, a steadfast presence in every situation, how grave it would be. He could predict every reaction, could gauge every emotion, by the Valar, he would die for him! But how little did he knew about the life of his friend before they met!

"He would have told you, Lord Elessar, if I had not forbidden it. It was the only thing we quarrelled about." Yvren seemed to have read his thoughts. Aragorn acknowledged him with a nod.

There was a soft knocking on the door. All looked up. Slowly, the latch went down and a head appeared. It was the fair, wild face of Iris. Her eyes looked a lot calmer now.

"Might I enter, Yvren? I did say the Ten Songs."

"Good. 'Cause we'll need it to wake him." Iris nodded and came over to Yvren. "What do you want me to do?"

"You'll wake him? You can do that?" Faramirs questioning voice broke through it.

"Yes, I can. I'm a wizard…"

"'After all, my dear boy'," continued Iris. "I guess they know already, Yvren. Now, what will you do?"

"I've examined him during my story. There are some gaps in the incantation that binds his angelic soul to this elvish body. I should be able to mend them, but you'll have to help me by sending me enough magic. That's why you'll have to recite the Ten Songs of Magic."

"I know the use of the Songs, thanks for reminding me."

"No problem. My Lords…" Aragorn raised his hand.

"Just Aragorn please. There is no need for such formalities." Yvren smiled slightly.

"Aragorn then. I will fulfil the evocation tomorrow night. It will be full moon then, and Angels are very sensitive for moontears. It is said that the light of Illuvatar, their

father, is locked in it. Could we invoke your hospitality until then?"

"You can and you will, Yvren. I'll let some rooms be arranged." And thus, it happened.

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><p>He was swimming.<p>

No, not swimming.

Floating.

Was he?

Perhaps not.

Swimming.

Floating.

Swimming.

Floating.

Perhaps floating.

Or swimming.

And thinking.

Yes, he was thinking and swimming.

Or floating.

Between stars. Yes, that's the one. He was thinking and floating between the stars.

But who was he?

Interesting question.

He was nothing. A dust particle. Between the stars. With wings.

Wings?

Yes, he had wings. White ones. He could feel them. Couldn't he?

He abandoned the idea of wings. And floated. Or swam. Endlessly. But not alone. A fatherly presence guided his ways. Always present. Omnipresent. In him. Outside him.

Yes.

And others there were too. Smiling friendly without faces.

They were lightened. Just like the stars. And then they melted into one, great flash. He was drawn to it. Faster and faster, he floated towards it. Or swam. And then he was through it.

And there was light. And darkness.

He remembered who he was now. Legolas. An elf. No, an angel. And he was lying in a bed, not floating. Or swimming. How did he get here?

The storm.

Yes.

Eowyn!

The elf wanted to spring up and look if the shieldmaiden was alright, but for one curious reason, he couldn't move his limbs.

Panic began to seep into his mind. What was happening? He desperately tried to open his eyes. Only after a few efforts, he managed to open them for a few moments. Then, the light was too much, and he closed them again. Besides him, he heard someone approaching, with light steps. A tender hand was placed upon his brows.

"Welcome back. You have been away for some time."

Iris.

"Yes, it's me. Go to sleep, Legolas. You'll need your strength." And though Legolas longed to see her face again, or to speak to her, or to ask her what happened, he found himself too tired to even open is eyes once more. And as he began to drift away in a healing sleep, he barely heard her last words.

"Soon, we'll be at war."

**Please review! Till next chapter!**

**xXx Archiril**


	6. Raphaël

**I'm soooo sorry this chapter came so late! I underestimated the work I had to do in DL a bit. And I apologize for the low quality, I'm struggling with the problem of so many personages in one place. Does anybody has some tips to manage them all without delaying the story?**

**Nevertheless, I still hope you enjoy this. If you do, please review :P**

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><p>When Legolas awoke again, it was dusk. Outside, dark clouds were assembling. Soon, a new storm would attack the White City. A tense atmosphere was already suffocating the halls. Legolas stared at the clouds for a moment, shuddering. Memory of that dark, cursed night slipped slowly back in his mind.<br>The malicious voice of the wind.  
>The pain of the wood.<br>The evil presence…

Abruptly, he shove the blankets aside and got up. There was no use in lingering in the past. Eowyn had made it to the door. That was the most important. He was about to go down, to the dining hall, as his eyes fell upon a small flower, lying upon the nightstand. Dark blue petals it had, lightening towards the middle and the outer edges, where it was silverly. The Eastern Star, it was called. The tender flower only grew at his home. He had once given it to Iris, on a past, remarkable summer's night.

He closed his eyes and smelled the sweet, green fragrance. Iris…

What was she doing here?

Light footsteps were approaching. Still not opening his eyes, Legolas waited till they halted. An aroma of the wood was circling around the intruder.

No, it couldn't be….

"Iris." He felt her smile. Slowly, he turned around and faced her, before looking at her.

"What are you doing here?" Her smile became broader.

"What about; "Hey Iris! Long time no seen. How are you?""

"Well, if you insist… Hey Iris! Long time no seen. How are you? What are you doing here? Better, my fair lady?"

"Much," she laughed, teasingly wrapping a strand of his hair around her slender finger and pulling him closer. He bent forwards, closing his eyes once again. Just before there lips met a lightning rolled inside the chamber, weaving flashing pearls in Iris' black hair and competing with the sun in that of Legolas. And a mere split second before they their lips would just each other, a door slammed open. Abruptly, both pulled back, staring with annoyed gazes at the intruder. Eowyn looked back with great eyes.

"My apologies. I didn't know… I just came to ask you if you feel able to have diner with us?" she stammered blushing.

"I am perfectly capable, Eowyn. Thank you for your concern. It has been a while since I've been up." Iris coughed.

"Three months, to be precise, actually." Legolas was about to answer as he noticed Eowyn gazing at him. Questioningly, he turned towards her.

"My lady, does something bother you?" Her face turned red, and she opened her mouth, but no sound emerged. She just kept on staring at his back. Legolas became worried.

"Eowyn? Are you alright? Did the wood hit you too? Eowyn?" Finally, she seemed to awake from her lethargy. She blinked and shook her head, focussing her eyes at his face.

"No… No, I'm fine. It's just… It's just… You have wings!"

Surprised, Legolas palpated his back. His fingers met soft feathers. If one saw him now, one would have seen sheer shock written on his face. He just kept feeling his wings, not being able to utter even the shortest syllable. His wings! He remembered them now. Many things he had forgotten about his previous avatar, but he remembered his wings now. He remembered how it felt to soar through the air. He remembered the strong pulling of his wing beats. He remembered the soft feathers as a pillow beneath his cheeks. Eventually, Iris broke the silence.

"Why so surprised, my love? As Yvren would say, you're an angel after all." Yet she also couldn't take her eyes of his back. Noticing Legolas' amused staring, she tore her eyes away and winked. .

"See you downstairs, Legolas." And with that, she left. Quickly, Legolas thanked Eowyn –hoping to release himself from her penetrating gaze, and dressed himself - which was quit difficult now he had some wings sticking out of his back, but after a few cuts, he managed to put on his shirt. A few minutes later, he appeared in the door opening of the dining hall. His friends were there, as was Iris… and Yvren! Without caring what the others would say, Legolas sprang forward and hugged his mentor heartily. The wizard just laughed and returned the embrace. Then, he held him on an arm's length to examine him.

"Ion nin. You can not believe how good it feels to have you here before me, with your eyes open and upon your feet. How do you feel?"

"I'm fine, father," Legolas smiled. He wanted to say something more, but the sound of breaking glass interrupted him. Gimli had let his cup slipping through his fingers at the sight of the white wings. Now everyone was looking at him, some admiring, some in shock, some curious. Then, Aragorn stepped forwards and embraced his friend.

"Legolas. My friend, it's so good to see you again. We've been so worried about you! What possessed you to go into that storm?" But they both knew that the elf would do it again every moment, so they just contented themselves by showing their friendship and relief in this warm hug.

"You've changed a bit, laddie. Personally, I prefer your old form though. Now you'll surely kick me of your horse when we ride." Gimli seemed to have recovered from his initial shock. Legolas merely grinned happily. Not having to hide his true identity anymore was a genuine relief. One by one, the others came forward, embracing Legolas and filling him in on the news of the last past weeks. Eowyn also apologized for her rather rude intrusion, but the elf waved it away.

Then, a stranger presented himself before Legolas, saying that is name was Raphaël. It wasn't his strange name that was interesting though. It was the pair of sanguine wings on his back. Legolas couldn't keep his eyes from it, though he knew he was being impolite. Yvren, seeing his bewilderment, intervened.

"Legolas, this is Raphaël. He is the head of the Angels, and the one who brought you here. He has important news to tell us, but that should wait after dinner. The servants are already bringing the plates."

Legolas was about to protest, but –after he had realised that he couldn't remember the last time he had eaten something and after he had acknowledged that these new revelations were a bit too much to process- he yielded. And indeed, as soon as the hot food had cooled enough to eat, he ate as much as Aragorn, which caused him some surprised gazes, although he couldn't match the Hobbits of course. Raphaël however, contented himself with some bread and cheese, and he barely drank something. During diner, Legolas kept on throwing glances at him. He couldn't figure out whether he had seen him before, or not, and that troubled him greatly. It was as if a kind of mist was obscuring his memories. He should have a talk with Yvren about it, later. In the meantime, he just had to wait and wonder why this Raphaël had come.

Finally, the last, empty plates were removed and Legolas looked expectantly at the Angel, but he didn't even return the gaze and leaned back, spreading his wings slightly as to stretch them, before thanking Aragorn and Arwen for the meal. Only then, he set his eyes upon the young Elf, and smiled benevolently.

"I guess you'll have some questions." His smile broadened as Legolas nodded eagerly.

"Let's find a place where we can talk, shall we?" He led the Elf to the fireplace and settled down there, quickly assuring that Legolas' wings –that he couldn't control them well yet- didn't caught fire. The Elf flushed and grinned sheepishly. Another thing that has turned upside-down. Usually, he could easily hide his feelings behind a mask –learned from his time at the court of King Thranduil - but around Raphaël he felt uncertain, a child. Perhaps because he longed so much to be accepted by his own kin?

"Where should I start? Do you…" Raphaël interrupted his thoughts, but stopped mid-sentence. The others had joined them, and the Angel hesitated to tell everything that was on his mind. Legolas saw his doubts.

"They are friends. You can speak freely."

"You do not even know what I will speak about," Raphaël replied calmly.

"They are trustworthy," he retorted. The message was clear. Point.

"Legolas, Lord Raphaël, there is no need to argue. We'll find another…"

"No, you will not." He heard the rash tone in his voice, and softened. "Please. I need you here." Though he would never admit it in front of the Dwarf, he was afraid. Afraid for who he was, for who he has to become, afraid for what he would hear. He was grateful as his friend read the unsaid emotions in his eyes and sat down, along with the others. If Gimli had understood it too, he didn't make a comment on it. Raphaël's stoicic expression turned a little uncertain, but he manned himself and looked at Yvren, as to ask his permission. Then, he face Legolas again.

"What do you remember of us?"

"Nothing. I… Do I have to remember something?" he asked nervously, but Raphaël reassured him.

"No, you were very little at that time. It's a long tale though, and I wouldn't want to repeat things you know already. Now, you'll want to now why we left exactly _you _with Yvren, and why we've returned only now, and what we've done in the meantime, don't you?"

"Aye."

"You are sure they may hear this?"

"Aye."

"Well, if you insist, I'll respect your wish. Let's go back in time, to the Second Era, to our escape from the dark cellars of Dûrmol."

**Cliffhanger, I know -at least, I hope so- ;) Well, same as always; please review and please send me some tips I asked for :P**

**Unfortunately, I can't say when the next chapter will be uploaded, the exams are coming! I'll try to finish it soon, but I can't make any promises. **

**Thanks!**

**xXx Archiril**


	7. Escape

**Another chapter! Glad I made it in time! Merry Christmas, Vrolijk Kerstfeest, everyone!**

**I've decided to do this one right, so:**

**DISCLAIMER: I do own LOTR... whenever I sleep. I do not own the Angels either, since I've got their names out of the Bible, and the internet. The plot and the characters of the Angels however, ARE mine. (OC)**

**One last word about the Angels: each of them has an own function. If you want to know them, they are listed below, alphabetically. Mostly, they have something to do with the story.**

**Once again I would like to thank TheButterflyCurse996 for her really encouraging reviews! They keep me going!**

**Now, the only thing I have to do yet is to wish you pleasure reading it and PLEASE review! :D**

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><p>"What did you just say?"<p>

"I said I won."

"No you didn't!"

"Yes I did!"

"No you didn't!"

"Yes I did!"

"No you didn't! You choose that stone left to the stone where pebble fell!"

"No I didn't!"

"Yes you did!"

"No I-"

"Shut up," a tired voice intervened from the corner. "Isn't it worse enough that Dûrmol captured and tortured us? Do you truly wish to torture my ears a bit more?"

The quarrelling voices fell silent. And it was dark and quiet again in the cellars beneath Mordor.

No one knew for how many years there were already imprisoned there. Time didn't held power here. There were no days, no seasons. Only one eternal night.

It could have been years ago since 9 of them had been taken away to be joined with the Nazgûl. The corpses of the Men were providing the body, but the tortured Angels were the cloud of despair that surrounded them.

It also could have been centuries since they left.

Or mere days.

None knew. And none really cared. The youngest of them were too absorbed in their game to predict where a thrown pebble would fall, the oldest were too absorbed by their bleak thoughts. The rumours that had been whispered between the cold stones were occupying them. They murmured of resistance. Rebellion. Courage.

Today.

The great battle had begun. Some miles away, Men and Elves and Orcs were fighting for the Fate of Middle-Earth. Dûrmol had been challenged by Elendil and Gil-Galad. This day, the Music of the Ainur would flow into a whole new course, for better or worse.

And they were sitting here. As they were for centuries. Or years. Or mere days.

It was frustrating.

In a corner, Raphaël sat, together with his young friend Tagas. Every now and then, the soldier would look up, as if he heard something, far away, in the heath of the battle of Dagorlad. Then he just shook his head, muttered something and began staring to the floor again, while tapping with his foot upon the cold floor.

It was irritating.

"Raphaël, please, could you stop being so nervous? We can't do anything, really," Tagas suddenly snapped. Raphaël just threw a gaze at him, and continued to tap his foot.

"Raphaël!" The Angels sighed and forced himself to stop. Some minutes later however, he caught himself ticking with his hand upon his stretched leg. Tagas sent him a murderous glare.

"Look, Tagas, I'm sorry, but I can't help it. Just leave me be, will you?" he snarled. Tagas merely raised an eyebrow and tried to ignore him.

It was difficult.

"Raphaël!"

"Tagas!"

"Would you please stop, you both! You are worse then little human children!" Arakiël, the same Angel who had reprimanded Muriël and Nabaälel for their game, interrupted them. The two friends exchanged a glare.

"My apologies, Arakiël," Raphaël started, "It's just… We were supposed to protect them!"

"Aye, I know. But in case you didn't notice, we're trapped here. And unless you have some plan to escape, that won't change soon. So instead of unnerving everyone, calm down and try to think of an escape route. You're the one who studied the art of war after all."

Raphaël was about to reply, when the earth started trembling. All of the Angels hushed and looked anxiously at each other. Then, the quaking ceased.

"What was that?" Tagas, the youngest of them all –barely 16 in human years- was staring at the ground with great eyes.

"I'm not sure…" Raphaël was unable to finish his sentence, as the ground shook once more, more violently then before. Grit fell down from the ceiling, covering the prisoners in a cloak of greyish ash. Vohamanah grimaced and spit out some dust. Then it was over again. For a moment, none dared to speak, in case their voices would raise the wrath of the earth again. Then, Tagas couldn't keep silent anymore.

"Arakiël, what was th-?" The floor started to wave.

"You're doing this on purpose!" Raphaël screamed, before duck to the floor and tried to shield his head from the falling stones. A moment later, the ceiling gave way.

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><p>It was pitch dark when Raphaël awoke. Well, awaking was a great word. It was more a kind of slow regaining of consciousness. Some senses slipped back to his body. The feeling of rough stones and debris beneath and above him. The dry taste of dust. The sporadic falling of some pebbles in delay. Pain.<p>

He groaned and tried to open his eyes. They were so heavy. Only after a few tries, he managed to hold his eyes open just long enough to take in the situation.  
>Darkness. The Angel let his head fall back. Great. That was of use.<p>

He tried again. This time, he found himself able to hold his eyes open. Not that that made much difference, actually. It was still dark. But slowly, very slowly, his angelic senses started to pick up some contours, with aid of the moonlight.  
>His eyes widened in shock. The whole cell had collapsed. He was sticking out of the ruins, with his legs still stuck beneath the stones. A bit further Tagas was, motionless. Arakiël sat a few steps left to him. He was pale, but seemed unhurt. He was busy digging.<p>

"Arakiël?"

"Ah Raphaël. I thought already I hurt someone. Mind if you come over to help me? Nabaälel is stuck."

"I know the feeling," Raphaël commented dryly. "Mind if you come over to help _me_?" Only then Arakiël turned and sighed.

"Eru's Love! You're a warrior! Can't you find a way to free yourself?" And he began digging again.

"My most sincere apologies, Arakiël. I was to busy being unconscious. I'll try not to do that anymore," the Angel muttered. Arakiël merely smiled. They both knew they were just bantering. Being the two oldest of the group merged a bond.

Finally, they had most of the youngsters up and well again. Tagas was pressing a piece of his clothes against a quit grave head wound; and Shateriël leg was injured, probably broken, but they were most concerned for Hammaweth, who was still unfindable. They searched, but meanwhile, Arakiël kept on throwing glances at the moon. At their freedom. They were running out of time. Soon, orcs would have learned about the collapse, and then they wouldn't have another hour before those foul creatures would come to hunt them.

They had to run now.  
>Coming to a hard decision, Arakiël squared his shoulders and beckoned Raphaël. The Angel wasn't searching. Rather he was with his young friend, who seemed on the verge of passing out. The blood loss was taking his toll. As he saw the leader winking him, he frowned.<p>

_Is it really necessary?  
><em>

_Yes, it is. Come here.  
><em>

Approvingly, Arakiël saw him whispering something to Tagas, before lowering him gently to the ground, where he could sleep. Then he crossed the former cellar.

"What is it?"

"We have to move. Now." At first, the Angel didn't get him. Then comprehension broke through upon his face, closely followed by stupefaction and anger.

"We can not."

"We must," he replied calmly.

"And what about Hammaweth? Do you intend to leave him?"

"I see no other solution."

Raphaël looked at him with disgust.

"You are loathsome."

"Isn't it loathsome to let Tagas and Shateriël die? Look at them! They won't last long without medication. And we surely will not get any of we are to be imprisoned again. We must leave."

Raphaël seemed to want to protest, but after a look at Arakiëls stern face, he swallowed his protest, reluctantly.

"You will take Tagas. I do not esteem him fit to travel. Shateriël will have to fly by himself, but since it's only his leg that is injured, I don't think that will be much trouble. Lead them to Yvren. Him you can trust. Do not show yourself to anyone else. And don't go to Elendil and Gil-Galad. You must not entwine yourself in a war. That was not out purpose. Understood?"

"Aye. What about you?"

"I will stay here. Perhaps Hammaweth is still alive." The look of astonishment and admiration was worth it.

"The orcs will come."

"I know."

"You will die."

"Perhaps."

"Let me stay here with you."

"Tagas needs you."

"Arakiël."

"Raphaël." The Angel seemed to realise that any objection was fruitless, so he just lowered his gaze and bowed respectfully, his wings folded alongside his body.

"Now go."

Proudly Arakiël watched the other Angel giving orders to organize their departure, before they set off. Soon, they were nothing but tiny dots in the air. He would be a fine leader. That he was sure of.

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><p>It was midnight as the Angels perched outside Yvrens house. The light and warmth that radiated from it, was a welcome blessing after hours in the cold winter-sky. Slowly Raphaël put Tagas upon the ground and gathered the other Angels. They were looking at him with expectant faces, curious what he was about to say. They were seeing him as their leader already. Arakiël had stayed behind.<p>

"You will all stay here. I'm going to have a talk with that Yvren."

"How do you know he can be trusted?" Chesedel asked.

"Arakiël trusted him."

"And what if Arakiël was wrong?"

"Then I will appoint Haniël as my successor and you will obey his orders." All kept silent. Raphaêl watched them one last time to make sure they understood, and turned around to face the house. Ancious, the Angels saw him disappear.

The moon had travelled quit a distance of his heavenly course as Raphaël emerged from the house again. Sighs of relief were heard, especially from Tagas, who had regained consciousness about an hour ago and had been really upset by what this friend was doing.

As he reached the forest where they were hidden, he began to explain his plan. Dark times were coming. They were to assist the Free People of Middle-Earth, as had been their task from the beginning. They would be hunted down however. The Dark Lord wouldn't allow hope to spread. Therefore, one of them had to remain secure, safe. He would be incarnated in an elvish body, to forget all of his past.

There was much protest against this plan, especially from the Angel in question. Raphaël couldn't be persuaded otherwise though, so eventually the others gave up there attempt, although the one who would stay behind occasionally tried again.

And as the full moon was rising, all of them emerged from their hiding spot to go to the atrium, where the wizard would fulfil the incantation. The wooden body was there already. Raphaël threw a lateral glance at it and was puzzled how it would be to be trapped therein. But his mind was set, and he was determined to protect at least one of them.

Nevertheless did he wonder, as the spirit of the Angel started to glow and the wood started to blend with Tagas fair soul, whether he would ever see his friend again.

**Ha! You didn't expect that (did you?) ;) Hope you like it. Beneath are the Angels names**

****Arakiël = Angel of the Divine Order ****

******Hammaweth = Angel of Passing******

********Muriël = Angel of Emotions********

**********Nabaälel = Angel of Enthusiasm**********

**Raphaël = The Healer**

**Shateriël = Angel of Silence**

**Tagas = Angel of Music**

****Vohamanah = Angel of Optimism****

****Please review!****

****And once again Merry Christamas, and Happy New years (since I do not think I will upload another chapter before New Year ;))****

****xXx Archiril****


	8. Planning a Plot

**I'm pretty proud actually. I didn't think I would have finished this chapter so soon in the exams.**

**As usual, thank you TheButterflyCurse996! :D**

**Please tell me what you think about it! Anybody interested in some more Legolas/Iris?**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own LOTR! The characters of the Angels however -minus Tagas- I invented, so OC :P**

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><p>Silence reigned. Everyone had been absorbed in the story. They had seen everything happening before their eyes. And now it was gone. With as last image, the frightened expression of the Angel Tagas, whom they now knew as Legolas.<p>

"Did you see Arakiël ever again?" Eowyn asked to break the shocked silence. With sad eyes, Raphaël shook his head.

"Oh. I'm sorry," she whispered ruefully. Raphaëls words had painted a strong leader, yet with a compassionate heart. It felt as if she he lost someone dear to her.

"What happened after you left… Tagas there?" Faramir questioned.

"We did as we were created to do. We gave hope to those who fought against the darkness and we eased the pain of who died in their attempt."

"Where are the others?"

"Waiting in Ithilien. The air was pure there, but some evil lingers still in the fair woods. They per se wanted to purify them. They-"

"Raphaël." Barely audible, Legolas spoke. He had been silent all the time, but now he was searching Raphaëls face for any signs that might be recognisable for him, for any trace that could lead him back to the one he once had been. Raphaël hushed and watched his old friend. It saddened him that there was only curiosity and pain in his eyes, no recognition.

"I'm sorry, Raphaël." It was as if Legolas had read his thoughts. Quickly, the Angel smiled reassuringly.

"Tis no fault of yours, my friend. I knew this would happen the moment Yvren and I agreed to give you this body."

"Then what will happen now? Forgive me, Raphaël, but you still haven't told us your purpose here. Legolas has been wounded many times before. Never any of you came. Why is this time different?" Aragprn asked, having too long been out of control in his own kingdom. As long as Legolas' life was at stake, he didn't care, but since he seemed to be fully healed, it was time to organize things again.

"No happy tidings, I fear. War is coming."

"But Sauron was defeated!" Eowyn exclaimed.

"Aye he was defeated. But our foe is not Sauron, but some of his dominions. You called them the Wringwraiths."

The group visibly relaxed.

"Now laddie," Gimli said with his low chuckle, "no need to upset everybody. It seems you are mistaken. Our fine lady Eowyn killed their leader, and the rest of them flew cowardly and have been pursuit by the eagles. None of them escaped."

"Gandalf assured us that they had been removed from this earth," Faramir added, looking at his wife with pride in his eyes. But Raphaël sighed.

"I fear you are right – partially. Aye, their mortal bodies have been destroyed. But the Angels that were bound to them, the tortured spirits that emanated agony and terror, were set free at their destruction. They roam the ethereal realm now, with only one purpose. The death of their former brothers. They are searching for us now, every day they are coming closer. My friends in Ithilien didn't stay there randomly. The skotadi are coming that way. They want to kill Tagas."

"You must be mistaken. This can not be true," Arwen said brusquely. The Valar knew how her heart had rejoiced the day she heard those vile creatures were expelled. That just couldn't be a lie. Next to her, Eowyn became deadly pale. Raphaël watched their reactions with regret.

"Forgive me for bringing this ill news to you, but you had to know. The White City has to be prepared." Aragorn seemed to be awakening out of his lethargy.

"My people has suffered so much. I can not ask them to take more. Is there no way to transpose the battlefield?"

"Where to? We could bring Tagas to Rohan, or Helm's Deep, or even the Shire. But that would only bring misery to other people, who has less chance to survive then those behind these sturdy, proud walls," Raphaël replied calmly. The upset man casted his eyes.

"Off course, my apologies," he muttered. Then he seemed to find new strength. His shoulders squared, he stood up and opened the door to approach a guard who has been posed behind the locked gate. A swift command was given, and he re-entered.

"A chart has been summoned. In the meantime, please tell me all you know about the forces and abilities of our foe. Faramir, Eowyn, Gimli, this is not your fight. I do not doubt your loyalty, but you have to know that you are free to go. No one will hold a grudge against you."

Unnecessary to say that none of them left. Gimli boasted rather loudly upon the firmness of the dwarfs and the sharpness of their axes – loud enough for an absent-minded elf to hear-, and Faramir expressed the love he bore for both Aragorn and Legolas, and that he would neither of them leave to fight alone. By his side, Eowyn smiled in agreement, but her lips and hand were trembling and her face was as pale and cold as shivering winter flower in the icy northern winds.

Gratefully, the king nodded and turned to Raphaël.

"Then, Raphaël, I would like to learn more about our foe."

"Their leaders are with nine," Raphaël began. "Their names are Camaël of Polarity, Thahamiël of Intuition, Satriël of Risk, Omniël of Transformation, Metatron of Aura, Leliël of the Night, Karaliël of Flexibility, Jischmahaël of Obedience and Ezekiël of Strength. Of them, it was Leliël who was bound to the Witchking. She is the most dangerous.

Each of them has some special powers, connected with the Value they represent. Camaël, Thahamiël, Jischmahaël and Satraël are the less perilous. They can penetrate minds and force them into a reckless action or to lower their weapons, but I guess that your soldiers will be too well trained for them to be influenced. And besides, sometimes a misguided attack benefits the audacious. Metatron can change moods, turn them into despair or betrayal. But again, I do not think that your soldiers will fall for that. I do insist however that Elemiah will stay with you during the battle. He will protect you and those around you from any fatal mistakes. Just a precaution," Raphaël quickly added before Aragorn could protest.

"Karaliël is an indirect threat. She is very clever and can cope with any situation. Most likely, she will guide the army. Kisjronel, Atuniël and I will try to eliminate her. Then we got the mighty ones. Omniël can transform herself in any form, if its visible and tangible. That means for example that she can not transform in a cloud, or an invisible force, though any kind of animal is easy for her. Ezekiël is just a very strong warrior. Try to take him down with archers. I will send Omadel and Saradel with the soldiers who will face him. And then we got Leliël. She was beautiful once, but don't be fooled by her fair face. She is as furious as the dark stormy sea, mysterious as a forest in heart of the winter, powerful as a typhoon, threatening as the night. I don not know her powers yet, but don't underestimate them. She was chosen for nothing as leader. I-"

The door opened and a servant came in with a large map in his hand. Behind him, some other men came to the table. They were carrying strange clays. With blatant curiosity, Raphaël watched how they unrolled the map and started putting the clay upon it. Only after some greenish sticks as trees were put into the clay, the angel understood what they were doing.

"A map in three dimensions! Clever," he muttered. Aragorn smiled.

"It was an idea of our good dwarf Gimli. Has a lot of advantages, actually. It saved us quit some men during struggles."

"I see… Is it possible to make some clay figures of us too? And to let them fly? We will patrol in the air."

"That shouldn't be a problem laddie. I can fix that," Gimli grumbled while he stroked his beard thoughtfully. "With a few installations above it and a lever and…" His musings drowned in his beard. Faramir smiled.

"Now we've lost him for some hours. Meanwhile, Raphaël, perhaps you could tell us if you have a plan?"

"Partially. We have practised some tactics, so most of my angels I can give you to protect your troups. Leliël will have assembled orcs, wargs, trolls and drakùs, and perhaps some other dark races. We will fight the drakùs. As I said, Elemiah will stay with you. I will send some other too. For our exact goals, that I would like to discuss with you. I do not know in what way your troops will be the most efficient."

"What will my part be?" a silent voice asked. Legolas, who had been suspiciously silent, came forward from his place near the fire. His eyes, though sad, beamed in resolution. He may not remember his true origin, but he would protect them at every cost. But that was not what Raphaël had planned.

"You will stay here. They are coming after you. You can not be seen here."

"But why are they coming after me?" Legolas asked, perplexed.

"You represent the innocence we have lost. While you lived with Yvren, we have battled the darkness. You are not tainted by its mark yet. That's what they want to destroy. And believe me, if they can kill us by the way, they will. They know we will protect you! That's why they force us into this defence. So that they can destroy us all in one effort!" His voice had become louder and louder, until he was yelling out of frustration. How couldn't he see this? He hadn't come this far, fight and lost so much to lose everything now.

"Then let me fight with you!" Legolas screamed back.

"No! Angels will die! I will not let their efforts be in vain by letting you die too!"

"I can fight!"

"No you can't! You have no experience!"

"I fought in the War of the Ring!"

"On the ground! How long has it been since you used your wings?"

"I…" Legolas searched furiously for any retort, but he couldn't find any.

"And that's why I will not let you fight!"

"But it's your fault! You locked me into this body!" Fuming, both friends stood against each other, with flaming eyes and stretched wings. None of them back away. They didn't even relax as Arwen stepped between them.

"Please, don't do this. You were friends once. Surely, you will not give our foe the pleasure of driving you apart?" But Legolas shot one more killing glance at Raphaël, turned and stomped out of the room, in highly unelvish manner. Silence was left behind him.

Slowly, Raphaël let go of his warriors pose that he had taken up without thought and sighed.

"That went not well," he murmered regretfully. "Perhaps I should go after him." Aragorn put a hand upon his shoulder.

"That would not be a great idea, I fear. Let him cool down. Wait until tomorrow. I'll go and talk with him this." Slowly, the angel nodded.

"Perhaps that would be better, yes… Thank you." He glanced one more time at the door that had slammed shut, and turned to the table.

"My lord, perhaps you could tell me how many troops you'll have at your disposal?" And so, they planned the battle, as good as such a chaotic murder can be planned, while some floors above them, at the top of the White City, a golden angel was plotting his own strategy.

If they had known how that would turn out, they probably would have locked him in a cellar.

Unfortunately, they didn't.

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><p><strong>Please tell me what you think! Review ;)<strong>

Skotadi = the Dark Ones

Drakùs = Little Dragons

Atuniël = Angel of the Healing Fire

Elemiah = Angel of Inner Voyage

Kisjronel = Angel of Success

Omadel = Angel of Protection

Sariël = Angel of Healing


	9. The Skotadi Are Coming!

**Well, that had been a long time ago. There not much to say this time, I just want to thank TheButterflyCurse996 once more for her reviews :)**

**For you who are reading this story, please review! It will certainly help me to improve my writings!**

**DISCLAIMER: I own LOTR... only when I sleep, sadly enough.**

**Angel's names and traslations will be found at the end, as usual.**

**Have fun! xXx Archiril**

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><p>"How much time do you think we have left?"<p>

"About an hour it would seem," Raphaël answered, after a quick glance at them map. Asaël had occupied himself with the improvement of the map, and now the puppets were all moving in the same way they did in reality. For now, only the dark ones were moving, towards the White City. Above the map, some white angels were soaring in systematic patrons. Others had settled down near the city. The Queen was in the palace, taking care for Eldarion. The others, including a silent Legolas, were standing beneath the White Tree.

Raphaël quickly shot a glance at Legolas. He didn't like him being here. If the skotadi has spies, they might see their prey and take him in surprise. But then again, Legolas had been surprisingly quick to give in to his demand to stay in the palace with Arwen during the fight, though since then he had barely spoken a word and his eyes were cool. He really couldn't press the matter any further.

Feeling his gaze, Legolas turned and set his icy eyes on the angel. Raphaël held his gaze for some seconds, before turning away sadly. He hadn't meant it to be like this. Somewhere, he had hoped that Tagas would remember him, that the spell that Yvren used, would break. But he realised that had been a fool's hope.

"Raphaël?" It hit him that Aragorn had been talking to him for quit a while.

"Um… Yes?"

"I wondered if you could spare some more Angels for my archers. I'm not sure about their position here. They are far too exposed on the Fourth Level."

"You have your catapults here and here though," Raphaël pointed. "They should be able to protect them."

"Aye, but there are only two that are close enough. And the archers wear nothing but a very light armour. It will not stand against any sword or spear. Ten Angels with them could mean the difference between life and death."

"Ten? You're mad! I'll give you three!"

"Seven."

"Five."

"Agreed." Both smiled. Five was exactly the number they had come up in the beginning, but it was much more interesting to tease each other, to lighten the tension that hung heavily in the air, as if Death himself had spread his mantle above the City yet. The Angel turned to his herald.

"Gabriël, would you please send five of our warriors to the archers on the Fourth Level. Let them volunteer."

"My lord," the messenger nodded, spreading his wings and he flew quicker then an eagle into the air, where the feathery creatures were circling.

"You seem pretty sure there will be enough volunteers."

"Aye," Raphaël answered, stretching his wings once again. He was becoming restless. Staring longing at the air, he continued. "Our Father has given us a fierce love for his other children. We will do whatever we can to protect you from harm. Don't worry, Aragorn. Five Angels will go to protect your archers." The king smiled.

"Thank you, Raphaël." He threw a look at the enchanted map. "Now, they are coming quit close. Legolas, would you mind to look after Eldarion now?"

No answer. Concerned the king turned around. The elf was still standing there, watching the dozens of Angels flying above them, his own wings rustling in the wind, restlessly.

"Legolas?"

With an irritant gesture, Legolas turned his head.

"They will arrive very soon. Would you please go to Arwen and Eldarion." He didn't even answer. After an angry glare at Raphaël, he stepped away, leaving the king and the general behind with sad eyes.

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><p>The halls were completely empty. The men were all called to defend the city – and him. The woman and children were brought to a great hall inside the mountain that supported the White City. Where the Skotadi wouldn't find them, if the defences would fall. Where they would be safe. And where he had to hide as a coward, letting his friends fight for him.<p>

Needless to say that Legolas was fuming. Only the thought of his plan avoided his anger to come out. Silently, he went over the different steps again. It would be dangerous, but if it worked, it should be able to spare many lives. If only he could escape the palace… His hand went to his pants and clenched the struggling puppet of an Angel with golden hair. At least they wouldn't be able to see him on teh enchanted map.

Absorbed in his thoughts, the elf hadn't heard the soft footsteps of Yvren and Iris approaching until he almost fell against the fair maiden.

"Ho Legolas! Easy!" Quickly, she steadied him before his wings could hit her. Startled, Legolas tried to smile reassuringly.

"My apologies, Iris. I guess my mind was elsewhere occupied. Where are you going to?"

"The same place as you do, I would think. To the cellar." She stopped as she noticed a glimpse of hesitation and guilt.

"Legolas? You are going to the cellar, don't you?"

"Well… yes." But he didn't look at her.

"Legolas!"

"I'm not going to sit there idly! I want to fight!" he suddenly snapped. "I'm not an elfling anymore! They have no right!"

"Raphaël is just worried about you!"

"And what about the others? Shouldn't he be worried about them too?"

"You know that's not fair."

"I don't care!"

"Enough! Both of you!" Yvren interrupted. "Legolas, you're behaving like a child. Now be silent and follow us to the cellar." Too late he realised that Legolas didn't take commands very well. Immediately, his eyes got a stubborn glint and he crossed his arms.

"I'm going nowhere safe for the forest."

"The forest?" Legolas silently cursed himself for letting his tongue slip.

"Legolas, you aren't going to do something stupid, are you?" He merely snorted.

"When have I ever done something stupid?"

"Alphabetical list or in order of importance?"

"Ha. Ha. Ha."

"Why are you going to the forest, Legolas?" Instead of a commanding tone, Yvren now tried reasoning. Legolas fell silent. He tried to figure out whether there was a chance that his father and Iris would help him. But then again, he didn't have much choice, now they knew about his plan already.

"They are coming for me. I will not let anyone die for me while I'm hiding as a coward in the cellar with the children and woman." Iris sighed.

"What _exactly_ are you going to do Legolas?"

* * *

><p>Aragorn had an uncomfortable feeling. Legolas had given up far too easily. It wasn't normal. He just opened his mouth to tell Raphaël that he was going to check whether Legolas had indeed reached the cellar, and that he wasn't elsewhere occupied, as a high horn blazed. The sound rumbled as galloping horses through the sky, causing every soul to look up to the silvery messenger, Ambriël, with the heavenly horn on his lips.<p>

"The Skotadi are coming! Filoï! Na yste etoimoi ya maki!" Raphaël exclaimed, spreading his wings and taking his place between the warriors, who were moving to their positions in efficient, quick movements. Beneath them, Aragorn began to give orders to his generals. And Legolas was momentarily forgotten.

As soon as everybody had taken his position, a dark cloud covered the sun. Cries of astonishment and anguish arose from the mortal defenders of the White City. No ash it was that had taken possession of Manwë territory, nor a remnant of a weary storm. Thousands of dragons –drakùs- threw a shadow upon the light of the stones, each of them with a rider, though what creatures they were, none could tell, for they were hideous to behold.

Before the army, 9 winged figures flew. As ghastly as their servants were, as beautiful were they. Everything in their attitude radiated power; their squared shoulders, glimmering hair, full lips. Their stretched wings that seemed to be clenched with strength. Their gazes that shone with pure hatred and disdain.

They were the Kings and Queens of Darkness, and a little before them, the Empress flew.

Leliël.

Night.

She hadn't stolen her name. If in later days one who had been present that fatal day, had to describe the lethal, star-like creature in the sky –if a man who even wanted to think about it again could be found-, he would only manage to remember a vague picture of a woman, beautiful as a goddess, but whether her hairs had been black as ink, or grey as the lightning cloud, or fierce gold as the burning and torrid sun, none could say. For every living soul who laid eyes upon her, saw only perfection, as he himself thought perfection would be. And even many years later, many man would still be lying lonely in his bed, only thinking about the Daughter of Power, who had stolen their hearts.

Elegantly and queenly, Leliël descended a little, staring down at the city with seductive eyes that held thousands of mysteries, challenging the mortal soldiers to discover the secrets that she kept. But it was her voice that held the most enchantment and magic. As silken shawls her words were draped around the soldiers as she spoke.

"Why fighting?" she asked softly, her innocent voice stroking as a summer's breeze. She paused, letting her words having its mesmerizing effect. Slowly, she rose and fell with the rhythmic movements of her carbon black wings.

"Why fighting? Did you not suffer enough already?" Arrows were lowered hesitantly. Grips on hilts relaxed. Uncertainly, the soldiers were looking at each other. Aragorn knew he had to say something, but his tongue refused to move. Imploringly he looked at Raphaël, but the Angel seemed to be absorbed in his thoughts. His eyes had darkened.

"And for whom would you die this time? For an elf?" Her voice gradually gained steel, forging her words into daggers that pierced the hearts of those who listened and agitating the fire of anger there.

"Tell me, brave warriors. Is he really worth it? Is he worth your suffering? Your wounds? Your lives?"

"No!" one cried. The Empress looked in the direction of the bewitched man, her eyes gently.

"Indeed no," she smiled, as if rewarding an eager child. "So I offer you the choice. Give me the elf, and no one will hurt you. No one will die. No more pain. Nor more loss." She paused. "If only you give me the elf."

"No." Raphaëls strong voice arose, momentarily breaking the spell. "Soldiers of Gondor! Many of you have known Legolas. Some of you have practised archery with him. Others have drunk with him on more the one occasion. He is a prince, though did he ever treat any of you with disdain, or disrespect? Will you now handle him over to those creatures of darkness, as you throw away a useless bow?"

Murmurs began to spread. Indeed, many had met the young prince, and many loved his careless manner and gentle character. It was this love that now fought the spell. With pleasure and with pride, Raphaël watched the renewed militancy, before turning to Leliël, whose eyes were blazing with fury.

"Go away now, Leliël! Your words hold no power anymore! Go away, and leave us! I give you an hour. If you haven't left within that time, we'll be at war."

Haughtily, she rose high above the city. Her voice had become barely more than a hiss.

"You are a fool, Raphaël!" she snapped. "Do you really think you can hold this miserable city against my forces? I will crush you! And don't expect any mercy from me! You had your chance!" With these words, she flew away to her army. Untouched, Raphaël addressed the army.

"Well, you heard it. Do not give mercy, for you will receive none yourself. Ambriël, Gabriël, you know what orders to give. Prepare the Angels."

Both messengers nodded and disappeared faster than a shot arrow. Then Aragorn stepped forward.

"Faramir, would you please go and lead the archers? Eomer, the cavalry is yours. Hold to the plan as long as you can, but you have the liberty to do as you esteem. Eowyn, Gimli. The gates please." Then he remembered the matter of Legolas.

"Wait, Eowyn, go to the cellar first. No, I will not send you there to stay, I just want to make sure Legolas had obeyed. You know how he is." The shield-maiden was slightly taken aback.

"You want me to go now? Surely we have no time anymore! The skotadi can attack every minute!"

"I fear I must agree with the lady, Aragorn," Gimli intervened. "It's quit a distance to the cellar. We could use that time to prepare the guards." Hesitantly, Aragorn shifted his gaze between them. He felt reticent to enter the battle without knowing where Legolas -the stake- was, but Eowyn was right. They hadn't that much time anymore.

"Good. Then go." Swiftly, Eowyn and Gimli had disappeared. All of a sudden, the Courtyard of the White Tree was empty. Raphaël had gone to give some last instructions to his troops. Sighing, Aragorn turned to the map. Immediatly, he discerned the loss of Legolas' puppet. Worried, he tried to figure out reasons why the puppet was gone, not wanting the most sensible explanation to be true.

"You'd better stay out of trouble, my friend." But the unease wouldn't left his heart.

* * *

><p><strong>Ambriël = Angel of Communication<strong>

**Asaël = Angel of Creativity**

**Gabriël = The Messenger**

** Filoï! Na yste etoimoi ya maki = My friends! Prepare for battle!**

**So, hope you liked this one. It's a bit longer, as a compensation for the waiting. My exams will end in a week, so I hope I will have more time to write then. Please R&R!**

**xXx Archiril**


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